In a small Michigan town where secrets travel fast, I thought my prom dreams were over before they even began. Then, on the morning of prom, something unexpected pulled into my driveway. I’m 17 and a senior in a small Michigan town where everybody knows your favorite soda and your biggest heartbreak.
Besides school, I worked to save up money for a prom dress, but then my stepmom stole the cash. Luckily, a savior in a red SUV arrived. My classmates joke that you can’t sneeze at the gas station in our small town without it making it into the PTA group chat.
Here, the Rite Aid clerk knows your favorite gum, and the crossing guard knows your GPA. I work part-time at the CVS after school, restocking the shelves on weekdays and sweeping aisles when the old pharmacist with the mustache forgets his glasses again. On weekends, I babysit.
Every crumpled dollar and tip I made from customers who said, “Keep the change, sweetheart,” all went into an old red Folgers coffee can under my bed. That can held more than money. It held my dream.
Ever since ninth grade, I’ve been imagining the big day while scrolling through Instagram and saving photos of satin and tulle. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t looking for some wild couture piece. I just wanted something simple and magical that would make me feel like I belonged in a world where things worked out.
My mom used to say, “I want your life to have sparkle.” She passed away when I was 12. Since then, I’ve always told myself she’d see me in something sparkly from heaven. I’ve been chasing sparkle like it was a finish line.
Dad remarried when I was 14. That’s when Linda showed up. She came with her designer perfumes, her perfect posture, and her know-it-all tone.
Her daughter Hailey, who’s also my age, moved in with us in her junior year. We weren’t enemies, but we weren’t close either. She had her world, and I had mine.
Occasionally, our paths crossed near the fridge or in line for the bathroom mirror, but mostly, we lived like passengers on the same train heading in opposite directions. When February rolled around, so did prom fever. The girls at school formed group chats about color themes and Pinterest boards.
The talk around school was centered on dates and playlists. Even Linda caught the bug. She slapped a “Prom Planning Board” on the refrigerator like it was a science fair project.
It had checklists for the venue, nails, spray tans, shoes, hair trials, and corsage etiquette. She wrote Hailey’s name in sparkly purple ink and underlined it in glitter gel pen. My name?
Not even a bullet point. But I didn’t mind. I was quietly saving.
By March, the coffee can had $312! I’d counted it twice that morning. The money was enough for a discounted clearance dress at Dillard’s, a pair of kitten heels that wouldn’t break my ankles, and maybe a budget hair curler if I caught a sale.
I, too, had a checklist on my phone:
Dress: under $200
Shoes: maybe from some discount outlet
Hair: DIY curls from YouTube
Makeup: drugstore foundation and my one nice palette
Buttonhole corsage: for Alex, my neighbor and prom date
Alex and I weren’t a thing. We just made a pact to go together. He’s the kind of guy who brings his dog to the pharmacy just so the little kids can pet it.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
